


Tequila

by Dxlilith



Series: Song and Deth [3]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Post-Magnus, Pre-Toki, Preklok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 05:09:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6501958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dxlilith/pseuds/Dxlilith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You turn into a dark person." - Pickles the Drummer</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tequila

"Hey Nate'n you okie dood? Helllooooooo." Pickles has been attempting communication with the frontman for the last ten minutes to no avail. He was very tempted to hit him with a now empty bottle of vodka but was not in the mood to have his ass beat.

"That dream again." Finally Nathan spoke.

"Dood, I'm cuttin' ya off." Pickles grabs the bottle of tequila out of Nathan's hand and downs it in a couple swallows.

"She's calling to me. She hasn't in so long."

"Who we talkin aboot Chief?"

" _Her_." Nathan grinds his teeth at the word causing Pickles to shiver. There wasn't nearly enough alcohol in his system to ignore the wild look in Nathan's eyes.

"Oh kay dood. Uh, she got a numbah? Maybeh we could call her ba..."

"Water." Nathan cuts him off.

"Uh ya thirsty? I can get cha a nice cold glass of tap..."

"Where's the nearest body of water?"

Pickles is boggled. Sure Nathan had the social skills of a shoe box but  _after_ alcohol he was downright jovial. It must be the stress. Nathan liked to pretend he was the most indifferent but that's only because he cared more than the rest of them.

"Uh, I think dis place has a pool?"

"Good." 

Nathan stands up. Takes off his shirt then starts unlacing his boots. When the lead singer stomps out of the room barefoot and shirtless, Pickles decides to follow. Someone has to make sure he doesn't drown.

The entire walk down the hall and subsequent three flights of stairs is eerie. Sure it was probably two in the morning on a Tuesday night but there was something else. A negative charge in the air that Pickles swears has been following them since they kicked out Magnus. It made Pickles' buzz completely fizzle out and be replaced by a sort of dread.

When they reach the swimming pool, Pickles reads the clearly lettered sign:"after midnight the pool is closed". Nathan, in turn, punches a hole in the frosted glass and wrenches the gate open.

"Dood, I ain't evah lettin' ya drink Tequila, so help me Gah!" Pickles warns, eyes scanning the area for any staff that may have just witnessed Nathan's blantant destruction of property. Fortunately enough for them and their safety deposit, there was no one in the area.

There's a splash and Pickles scurries into the artuim housing the pool. Nathan is already a blur of pale and black rippling underneath the water. Much to Pickles' relief, even at it's deepest, the pool is not enough for Nathan to drown. 

"You got great form fer a drunk guy." He mutters. He decides he might as well take a seat at one of the lounge chairs. He watches what feels like hours as Nathan swims back and forth, under and over. He starts feeling equal parts stupid for worrying and gay for still watching. 

Just when Pickles is about to leave, Nathan swims to the deep end and sinks to the bottom. Pickles counts to thirty and realizes he couldn't possibly hold his own breath for as long as Nathan has.

"Hey Nate, ya mind comin' up for air?" He calls out. Pickles' nervousness switches to panic and he starts tapping his fingers in a rhythm he's sure would make an amazing drum solo but right now he's wondering what the actual fuck Nathan is playing at.

"Dood, I'm comin' in!" Pickles jumps up from the chair and fumbles to remove his shirt. He has it over his head when he hears the surface water break. By the time he removes it entirely, Nathan is standing stock still in front of him and dripping wet, hair clinging to his face and obscuring it.

"Dood what da fack is ya fackin' problem!? What is wrong wit ya, scarin' the shit outta me, what were you thinkin?!"

"Shut. Up."

"Shut up? Shut up! No you shut up, ya fuckin' breakin' shit, swimmin' like a fuckin' mermaid an'..."

"We need a guitarist." Nathan wasn't even looking at Pickles, more like through him.

"Ey, I don't think Skwis..."

"We need _another_. The  _right one_  this time."

"Ok. We'll hold auditions."

"Tomorrow."

"Yeah man, we'll hold audtions tomorrow. Uh, just, let's get some sleep? Huh?"

Nathan grunts and walks away. Hopefully back to their room to sleep off whatever the fuck had gotten into him. Maybe this was his version of a nervous breakdown?

Pickles grabs his shirt off the wet floor and follows the lead singer out. He flounders when he sees that Nathan has left a thin trail of blood. Probably from smashing his fist through the door. He prays to all that is evil and metal that they can all leave before anyone can assess the damage. There's no way they could afford this right now.


End file.
